


Comfort and Joy

by Nana_41175



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bond as Santa Baby, Fingering, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romance, allusions to various christmas songs, handjobs, with jingle bells and leather gloves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: It is Christmas Eve and Bond, as Santa, fulfills Q's Christmas wish.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Comfort and Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliensundermybed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensundermybed/gifts).



**Author's Notes:** Hey everyone! Merry Christmas! It's been a very difficult year for all of us, I'm sure, so I hope this little fic can bring some cheer and fun sexytimes to everyone who needs it. Dedicated to the brilliant [**Aliensundermybed**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliensundermybed/pseuds/aliensundermybed), who continues to bring so much joy to the 00Q fandom. This fic is inspired by her drawings, shown below. Thank you, darlin! Please also visit[ **Alien's twitter**](https://twitter.com/Dramaticatart) for more of her art. Special thanks also to [**Espritneo**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/espritneo/) for allowing me to use her _Jingle Bond_ lines here, hehehe.

Enjoy and let's continue to hang in there and hope that better times are ahead in the coming year!

* * *

“Just put the glasses on the table, thanks, Eve,” said Q as he started the dishwasher’s first round.

“You can always do that later, love,” Moneypenny said, warmly. “Great dinner, as always. Thanks!”

“Thank you for coming,” said Q as Moneypenny came up to kiss him goodbye. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!”

He heard Bond at the foyer, exchanging some last words with Moneypenny as he helped her with her coat. Q had to smile. Bond had been the paragon of good behavior all evening during their small Christmas dinner party, in stark contrast to his behavior at the Q branch Christmas party two days ago when he’d donned on a Santa suit, complete with red hat and false white beard, with a suitably _Bond_ twist to his attire by affixing tiny, jingly bells to his belt as he went around, handing out gifts.

It had been hilarious and suitably embarrassing, and Q could not help but blush at the thought of his dumb boyfriend, showing a side of himself that he very rarely let slip in public.

Or perhaps they were just happy. They were in fact supremely happy these days, and it showed.

Of course, at some point in the evening, a rather tipsy R had to come up with the revised few lines of a Christmas classic while Bond pranced through the corridors, making good his role of Father Christmas as he handed out his tiny parcels, and thereby racketing up the hilarity:

_Jingle bond, jingle bond, jingle bond rock_

_Jingle bond sing and jingle bond ring_

The memory of it was enough to send Q giggling quietly. He picked up his half-empty wineglass and ventured out of the kitchen, wondering if all their guests had left.

Nobody seemed to be around in the living room, not even Bond.

“James?” Q called, wondering where Bond had got himself off to. A short circuit around the flat yielded only the cats in the bedroom, but no Bond.

“James,” Q called again as he came back to the living room, thoroughly puzzled. Only to stop short at the vision awaiting him in front of the cheerfully crackling fireplace.

“You called, love?” Bond drawled, and Q found a noise escaping him involuntarily, part giggle and part gasp.

Bond was back in his Santa costume, with all its trimmings, only he was bare-chested, and sporting black gloves.

“I’ve not given a special somebody his gift yet,” Bond continued suggestively as he gave Q a lidded, sultry look. “And I’ve waited all evening just for this.”

Q was still staring, mesmerized, at the delectable man before him. Actually, he did not quite know where to look first. Everything about Bond was enough to make Q drool, but he felt he had to put up some sort of token resistance.

“Oh, you…you impossible git!” he said, managing to sound scandalized. “Put your shirt back on!”

“Why? All the guests have left, as you very well know,” said Bond as he came slowly forward like a lion on the prowl, and that was when Q heard the bells, jingling merrily along his hips.

It was enough to break the thin veneer of formality between them, sending them into full-fledged laughter.

“Come here,” said Bond as he finally pulled Q to him.

They shared a long, warm, lazy snog that had Q sighing contentedly.

“Missed you,” he murmured against Bond’s lips.

“Darling,” laughed Bond, “we were sharing furtive touches from under the table all evening.”

“Yes, but it’s all not the same as this, is it?” Q muttered, nearly shuddering as Bond ran leather-gloved fingers lightly down the side of his face, his neck.

“Well, maybe next time, let’s not even throw a Christmas Eve party and just have the entire night to ourservles.”

“That’s impossible, as you very well know.”

Bond hummed before he stepped away, leading Q to the sofa by the hand. “Come,” he said. “Sit on Santa’s lap so you can tell him what you want for Christmas.”

Q gave a snort. “Really, Bond?” he said, eyebrow raised as Bond threw himself down on the sofa.

“Really,” said Bond, holding out his hand. “Come and tell me your wish. I’m in a giving mood tonight. But before anything else: have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“I can’t believe this,” said Q, crossing his arms around his chest and stopping himself from laughing out loud. “I’ve been _nice,_ as you very well know, and can I just sit right beside you like a decent chap, and we can talk about this like two responsible adults about to embark on a night of sexual escapades?”

“We can,” replied Bond readily. “Though decent, responsible blokes do _not_ get to have anything remotely like a sexy wish fulfilled if they insist on sitting beside Santa. They’ll just have to settle for something…nice.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Outplayed, Q threw up his hands before settling them on his hips. “Okay. Fine.”

Bond, being the infuriating man that he was, merely patted his knee as he gazed at Q expectantly with bright eyes. Biting down hard on his lip to keep from smiling, Q sauntered forward before he nonchalantly slid onto Bond’s lap, looping an arm around his neck. He felt Bond’s arm go around him as he settled down and made himself comfortable.

“There,” Bond purred. “Not so bad, was it?”

“The calm before the storm,” Q said, eyeing Bond sardonically from up close. “I know you’re going to make a right mess of me before the night is over.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” Bond pressed on.

“Mmmm, I never said it was,” Q replied as he brought his mouth down for his lover to claim.

A bit later, he finally whispered to Bond his Christmas wish, his lips to Bond’s ear. After all these months, he was still quite shy about voicing his wants, though Bond was quickly gaining ground in helping him cast aside his bashfulness, as evidenced by his cries as Bond set about fulfilling his wish.

“Don’t keep them in, I want to hear you,” said Bond as Q ground against him in helpless pleasure. He was three fingers in, deep inside his beloved and he was only getting started.

“Deeper,” Q gasped out. “Oh, _please,_ James.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Bond praised, his voice a deep growl against Q’s ear. “Tell me more.”

“Your gloved hand,” Q said, panting as he buried his face against the hollow of Bond’s neck, concentrating on the feel of those bare fingers as they drove in and out, and _curling_ at just the right spot inside him so that Q could not help but scream. “On my cock. Please.”

His words ended in a near-shout as he felt Bond's leather-gloved hand trailing down the length of his torso before fisting around him.

“There, you’re so beautiful, darling,” said Bond. “And so close.”

Straddling him, Q undulated his hips, back arching in feline grace as Bond continued to fuck him with his fingers.

Then, a sudden wail of dismay as the fingers withdrew.

“Ssshhh, love,” murmured Bond soothingly, petting his lover’s tense, shivery frame until Q gradually began to relax against him. “We’re going too fast. Time to slow down for a bit. You said you want me to come inside you.”

Q nodded against Bond’s shoulder as he made to gather his breath.

“Come on,” Bond said, gathering Q to him before rising from the couch.

Q held on for dear life, wrapping his arms and legs around Bond as he was carried to the warm, inviting patch of thickly carpeted floor in front of the fireplace, where a few throw pillows had been left behind following the party.

He clung onto Bond even as he was lowered onto the cushions, their mouths meeting in a searing kiss, the bristles of that fake white beard tickling his face even as they laughed helplessly. Bond only managed to unzip his red Santa trousers before Q was laying greedy hands on him, pulling him out to caress him with slender, agile fingers.

“Don’t,” said Q, shaking his head at the prospect of Bond ridding his trousers entirely. “Don’t bother. I want you now. _Please hurry.”_

With a low growl, Bond slicked himself up before aligning himself at Q’s entrance, the lube making a mess on his trousers, which only had Q laughing breathlessly before the laughter turned into a low moan at the feel of Bond, sliding into him.

Q hitched his legs up, spreading himself further wide open to allow Bond more freedom of movement as he made the first thrust. They froze at the sound of the sharp, merry tinkling of bells from Bond’s belt before they collapsed in fresh heaps of laughter.

“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?” teased Bond as he began thrusting in earnest, still laughing as Q giggled uncontrollably.

It was funny, just as it was fun, just like always, with Bond. The man was easy to love, because he made loving so much fun.

Q held out for as long as he could, clinging to Bond and climbing that steep slope of pleasure before he allowed himself to let go, to fall, as the first waves hit, crashing in on them as Bond rose above him, his movements sharp and hungry now as he thrust in savagely, the bells jingling every step of the way before he froze, spine rigid as he threw his head back, a shout torn from his throat before coming in a torrent inside Q. It was, Q thought, the most magnificent thing he’d ever witnessed.

Much later, lying spent in each other’s arms in front of the fire, Q gave a quiet giggle as he kissed his way down Bond’s pectoral. “Well, that was quite a gift, Santa Baby,” he teased.

Bond gave a pleased grin. “Glad you like it, my little Elf.”

“I don’t think I’d think of Jingle Bells the same way again after this,” remarked Q. “I’ll probably start salivating, like Pavlov’s dog.”

Bond laughed. “Well, you’ll just have to think of some other song that won’t remind you of naughty thoughts and deeds.”

“Hmm,” Q mused. “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen is always a favorite of mine.”

“There you go, then.”

Q smiled as he found himself singing a stanza to Bond, and his voice very nearly cracked as he reached,

_Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

_Comfort and joy_

_Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

Bond said nothing, merely gathered Q in to kiss him soundly and seeming to understand how he felt, how they’d each become the other’s source of deep comfort and joy in the past few months and, hopefully, many more Christmases ahead.


End file.
